


a distance erased with the greatest of ease

by clayisforgirls



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 09:20:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4913932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clayisforgirls/pseuds/clayisforgirls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"he wasn't about to start a friendship that had never happened in thirteen years of knowing each other"</p><p>Because this interview (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mzP8-4D0o9w) happened, and then I wrote this and posted it nowhere for two years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a distance erased with the greatest of ease

The restrooms - and he wonders not for the first time why Americans choose to call them that - are thankfully empty when he enters. It's been a long day, or at least it's felt it. He's known for weeks he was going to see Andy, since Andy sent him that out of the blue text that said **_im going to be in nyc for that ceremony thing want to do an interview?_  **and he'd had to get Andy to explain an interview for _what_ because he's been so focused on not being old that he's out of the loop, as Andy would say. But it's not like knowing prepared him for seeing Andy again, and he'd felt like a kid. A kid meeting the star he had a crush on way back when, butterflies in his stomach and words stuck in his throat, but after five minutes it was like they'd known each other for years.

 

That was kind of the problem. They have known each other for years and he knows Andy too well. Wanted to smart remark him back but it would have meant that Andy had finally broken through those walls that he'd worked so hard on building. Instead he was perfect Roger Federer, like everyone expected. Perfect answers, a few laughs laughs, just like they'd always had when Roger had made all those trophy speeches, and Andy could do little more as watch as he held up another trophy.

 

Although Andy's the hit here like always; catching up with old friends and acquaintances like he didn't retire a year ago. Like Roger hasn't missed him in every city, every town he's visited. Wanted for Andy to text him _**April**_ **_or August or November Fools whatever haha_**  and turn up in Basel or Melbourne or Miami with a racquet in hand. It never happened though, and for the first time in years that Roger can remember, Andy looks happy.

 

So while Andy flirts and jokes with his former rivals, mentors and heroes, seemingly loving the moment, Roger needs a moment away from everything. Just one moment alone to regroup, because today has fucked his head up, and tomorrow he just needs to go back to playing tennis.

 

He leans against the cool marble wall and shuts his eyes, so lost in his own head he doesn't hear the door click open.

 

"Hey." Andy. Of course. "I wanted to say bye. And good luck."

 

He opens an eye and Andy's standing with the door half open, leaning against the frame like he doesn't know that in one day he's made Roger rethink every decision he ever made about Andy Roddick.

 

"Thanks," and he manages a smile, somehow. "When are you leaving?"

 

"Town? Uh, like next week sometime. Brooke has a thing."

 

"Oh." It's that name that snaps him back into the reality, that they're both married and he has two kids and he loves Mirka. He does. Just not like he-

 

And that's something he's never considered. That he's in love with Andy Roddick. But before he can dwell on that thought, Andy cuts into them.

 

"Maybe we could do dinner. Like, Friday or something."

 

He can't say no to that face. Hope is written all over it, like Andy's happiness is resting on him saying yes. The look he's seen before more than once. He remembers saying no, and that one split second of hurt on Andy's face before it had been masked over.

 

"We agreed-"

 

"We're not playing, I mean, I'm not playing anymore. We never agreed no dinners afterwards."

 

Andy's right, of course, but it's a technicality. No dinners, no doubles, no practice together, no anything that could be construed as more than rivals (or non-rivals, as Andy used to say). And after they were retired, no relationship. They've both stuck to that part of the deal. Roger had been surprised when he didn't hear from the American for ten months, but it had been his idea, and he wasn't about to start a friendship that had never happened in thirteen years of knowing each other.

 

"Anyway, I- look-" and he lets Andy find his words, "I came to say goodbye. So, bye."

 

He turns to leave, and words catch in Roger's throat for the second time today.

 

"Do you miss it?" and that's not what he meant to say. It was meant to be _goodbye_ , maybe _see you around_. Not to get Andy to stay longer.

 

"No," Andy replies after a moment, "I was done. I like playing golf. I like working in tv. I like not having to wake up early to practice or work out if I don't want to. It's- it's different. Relaxing."

 

"You don't miss anything? Your friends?"

 

Andy arches an eyebrow, like he knows what Roger is trying to get him to say. And he probably does, he was always good at reading Roger anywhere other than a tennis court. A voice in his head is shouting _ask him if he misses you_ but he quietens it and pushes it to the back of his mind.

 

"I talk to James and Mardy and Bob and Mike, I talk to them all the time. It's not like- maybe I don't see them. But they're still my friends." Andy takes a step towards him, then two more, until the door shuts behind him and all of a sudden he's in Roger's personal space. Too close, or not close enough, he can't decide. "But me and you," and Andy reaches out to straighten Roger's tie, his fingers brushing skin accidentally - except when he looks at Andy's face, it wasn't even close to an accident -  and even as his fingers slip away the skin still tingles, "we were never friends, Roger."

 

His smile is almost bitter and Roger knows why. Andy tried, kept trying for dinners and doubles and practice and all Roger would say was no. That was when they made the agreement, the one Andy had never stuck to and kept trying, until That Wimbledon Final, and after that he'd never tried again.

 

"If you-"

 

And Roger interrupts because he doesn't want to hear what Andy has to say; whatever it is can wait because he's sure it will be something he doesn't want to hear.

 

"I miss you."

 

Andy's expression softens, just for a second, and then there's a mouth covering his own; his brain is screaming _stop_  because they're in a bathroom but by the time he listens to it there's a tongue in his mouth and a hand under his shirt and every nerve in his body is screaming for more. To say he missed this is an understatement. Stubble scratches his skin but it's comforting, because Andy is rarely clean shaven. He kisses like he plays tennis, all brash confidence and strength, and Roger can't do anything but give in. And when Andy pulls away for air, eyes twinkling, he knows Andy has missed this too.

 

"Dinner?" Andy asks cheekily, but doesn't wait for a reply, slides his lips over Roger's again, and Roger pulls him closer by hooking his fingers into Andy's belt loop.

 

"How does Friday sound?"

 

"Only if you promise that we can be BFFs," and that smile is the reason he can't ever say no to Andy. They wouldn't be here if he could.

 

Roger knows that once Andy leaves New York it won't be the same. He won't be able to turn up at tournaments unexpectedly and see Roger whenever he wants. But he's not sure he wants to give this up. Doesn't know if he can give it up again. So maybe they can do friends. Friends who apparently kiss in five-star hotel bathrooms.

 

But that's nothing new for them. It's just their future that might be.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from "Eric's Song" by Vienna Teng. It's on my Andy/Roger playlist and I think it's a perfect fit for them.


End file.
